


The Thoughts In My Mind (They Get To Me)

by templeg



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Hints of a blood kink, M/M, Romantic-with-a-capital-R Jehan is my favourite, Violence, mention of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeg/pseuds/templeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon-era Jehan/Montparnasse. Jehan has a late night visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thoughts In My Mind (They Get To Me)

            Montparnasse has heard it said that a true master thief never has to kill, that the mark of the best criminal is to leave no mark at all. He’s heard people boast of burglaries where the victims didn’t realise they’d been robbed until weeks later.

 

            He feels that these people are missing the point.

 

            Her jewellery box is something of a disappointment. A few cheap trinkets, a cameo on a velvet ribbon, of more sentimental value than worth. Still, at the sight of the moonlight on the tender skin of her throat, he thinks that his evening has not been entirely wasted.

 

            He runs a finger from her jaw to the neck of her nightgown and she murmurs, shifting in her sleep. At the touch of his knife at her throat her eyes fly open. The blade flashes and she dies before she can make a sound. He has long since become skilled at keeping the blood from staining his clothes. Still, perhaps it’s for the best that he wore black gloves. Less fashionable than white, of course, but some small concessions to practicality must be made. He is careful as he bends over his work not to stain his cravat.

 

*****

 

            He should have gone to bed hours ago, but a strange restlessness makes the thought of sleep impossible. Somewhere in the street below, a child calls out, the hoarse cry of the _gamin._ Jehan turns from the window and gets out his opium pipe. He prefers not to smoke alone, but he can’t quiet his mind.

 

            The knock comes just as he lights a match. He blows it out before he opens the door. Montparnasse’s hair is disheveled, but his clothes, as ever, are spotless. Jehan is profoundly glad not to be alone. He doesn’t close the door before he kisses Jehan, doesn’t even step inside, and although it is close to three in the morning and his landlady is long since asleep he feels a thrill at the exposure of it. There’s a taste on Montparnasse’s lips that could be blood. Jehan says nothing, and if he bites just a little harder, tightens his hands in his hair a little more, well, who’s to say why? 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, how I tried to resist writing these two. I guess the power of my attraction to canon Montparnasse- not the one in some fics who's all 'misunderstood', I mean the one who kills multiple people before he's twenty- was always going to win out. I fear I understand where Jehan is coming from.
> 
> Title from Blew My Mind by Dresses.


End file.
